Fred and George: Mission: Enter Snowman Contest
by JB5391
Summary: For Healer Pomfrey's Christmas Writing Challenge 2009. My first HP Story Be nice . Fred and George have plans for a snowman contest. However they fall ill on the last day of term and guess who's in charge of the Hospital Wing? sick!Fred&George OOC!Snape


**Fred and George: Mission: Enter Snowman Contest**

**  
****A/N: This is my first Harry Potter story (ergo be nice :D) and my first challenge response and it is to Healer Pomfrey's Christmas Writing Challenge.  
Summary (Based off Healer Pomfrey's Criteria): Fred and George are ill at Christmas, and they cannot go home as the Weasleys are in Romania. It is set in their second year (the year before Harry and Ron start Hogwarts. They try and hide their illness from everyone and look after themselves. An adult discovers this and nurses them back to health either during or after the snowman building contest they had arranged with Dumbledore.**

**I'd like to dedicate this to Healer Pomfrey for sharing her fabulous stories with us and inspiring me to write.  
Hope everyone has a lovely New Year!  
Jessica xxx**

* * *

It was Friday afternoon at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Term had finished and most students were in their common rooms racing through homework, so they could enjoy the deep snow surrounding the castle. All except, that is, a certain pair of second-year Gryffindors.

"Gred, do you have the feeling..."

"...that your head is about to explode?"

"And the shivers..."

"The itchy ears..."

"...and the incredibly sore throat?"

A double groan could have been heard - if the common room wasn't so noisy. The twins were not enchanted with the idea of spending their Christmas holiday ill.

"We don't have time for this! We've planned for the most brilliant snowman-building contest in the history of Hogwarts! We can't go to Pomfrey... we'd never escape in time..."

"True, except you forgot one thing. We wouldn't escape at all – remember she goes to St. Mungo's at the end of each term to do some sort of course... keeping up-to-date with the latest in healing... The Heads of Houses take over. And guess who has the most experience out of that bunch and therefore likely to take over most of the time?"

Another double moan followed, which was ensued by a rather nasty coughing fit; thus attracting the attention of nearby housemates.

"Are you alright Fred?" asked a concerned looking Angelina, "that cough sounded painful..."

"I'm fine [cough] Angelina, Bertie Botts's nearly went down the wrong pipe, vomit flavoured too."

Angelina, pulling a face at the mention of vomit, did not look convinced, but accepted their story and after a warning to chew the popular wizarding sweets turned back to her beastly essay about Pepper-Up potions for Professor Snape.

The boys didn't desire to visit the Hospital Wing under any circumstance, but knew if they did nothing, they'd end in there anyway – without taking part in the contest.

"What can we do? Percy would drag us straight there; regardless of whoever's playing nurse. Charlie mayn't be so bad but still, it's not worth the risk..."

Whilst his brother was talking, George has caught eye of Angelina's essay title. "Pepper-Up," he said simply. Fred blinked. Then as it clicked in his brain, identical grins were forming on their faces.

"Yes..."

"... We can steal it from the stores..."

"... or if that avenue gets shut down, we can brew it!"

After a few minutes in discussing how they were to pull this off, it was decided that George would sneak in during dinner, as there'd be less chance of discovery, with Fred as look-out.

~*~

During dinner, they executed their mission. Everything almost went to plan. _Almost._ McGonagall had caught Fred on her way to dinner and had chivvied him along, leaving George with no eyes in the hallway. Meaning that he had no idea his least favourite professor was striding towards the Hospital Wing with a most unnatural pace, his outer robe flaring out behind him, which made him look like a large overgrown vampire bat!

George had managed to find a few vials of Antipyretic Draft before he heard the distinctive clipping of the professor's boots on the flags leading to Poppy Pomfrey's domain. It was only whilst Snape was settling in the mediwitch's office that George was able to escape, taking no chances lest the professor heard the door and sprinted all the way back to the Tower.

Fred in the meantime, had swallowed a few painful mouthfuls of the delicious chicken dinner before discreetly taking leave of the Great Hall, not noticing the emerald eyes following his departure. He arrived in the common room twenty minutes later and walked over to his brother.

"Gred, where were you? Someone found you?"

"McGonagall, sorry I couldn't warn you," Fred admitted with a frown, "what did you get? That doesn't look like Pepper-Up"

"There wasn't time, Snape came..." A gasp of dismay: "Did he?"

"No. It was very close. All I had time to grab was this Antipyretic Draft," handing a vial over to his twin.

Simultaneously they broke the seal wax and downed the sapphire coloured potion. This turned out to be just in time, as the portrait hole opened. Whilst McGonagall climbed through, the twins hastily stuffed the empty vials into their robe pockets.

"Boys, why aren't you at dinner, are you ill?" asked the stern Gryffindor Head with a face softened with concern. Fred and George could feel their stomachs falling to the deepest bowels of the castle.

"No..."

"...Not at all Professor, just..."

"...overindulging in sweets made us lose our appetite..."

The anxious face of the Professor rapidly morphed into a glare that could rival both Severus Snape and Molly Weasley's dark looks. "That may be Mr Weasley, but I noticed at dinner you were grimacing as though you were in pain when swallowing. I ought to-"

"-easily explained Professor. Earlier I choked on a Bertie Bott's bean. It took a fair bit of coughing to send it down the right pipe..."

"First, don't interrupt me, it's extremely rude and second you ought to know better about eating sweets before dinner. I doubt you mother would have allowed such practices at the Burrow."

A 'Sorry Professor, it shan't happen again' rang around the common room and McGonagall left.

"That was close..."

"...for comfort, I know."

It was Christmas in 3 days. During those 3 days the boys felt increasingly ill. Their last draft was to be shared on Christmas morning. They didn't dare steal any more with McGonagall on their case and Snape in the Hospital Wing. Nor did they attempt to brew the Pepper-Up like they planned. Their coughing and sneezing tended to bring on debilitating dizzy spells that rapidly turned into migraines. The twins for their contest entry had planned to build the headmaster with the four Heads of Houses. Each of them would hold something relevant to them. For example, Professor Dumbledore would have Fawkes on his shoulder (they knew about Fawkes having met him the first week of term the previous year), McGonagall would be holding a tabby cat, Flitwick would be standing on top of a bile of books levitating feathers, Sprout holding one of her precious plants and Snape would be stirring something into a cauldron. They had wanted to include Hooch with a broomstick, but agreed if there was time they would add her, as she was their favourite teacher, in spite of being a strict instructor and disciplinarian and especially as they all loved flying.

~*~

Christmas morning came and the twins were feeling dreadful. It was only half-heartedly that they opened their presents, glad that their gloominess was not seen by their absent dorm-mates.  
"Forge..."

"Gred..."

"After the contest..."

"...We're going; it's getting too bad..."

"I agree."

They pulled on every Weasley sweater they owned, including the newest ones that they had just opened and over the top threw on threadbare outer robes in an attempt to warm their aching bones, before sharing the final vial of Antipyretic Draft and heading downstairs to breakfast.

After forcing down breakfast, not noticing the obsidian eyes taking in their grimaces and baleful glances at their breakfast, they donned their gloves and went outside with the handful of students that had remained at Hogwarts for the holidays. The Headmaster remained inside so he could be an impartial judge along with his brother Aberforth. The Heads of Houses however, went along with the students to keep an eye on the proceedings (and to prevent cheating).

~*~

Snape was making his rounds near the twins. He had noticed that the twins were not their usual cheerful (in Snape's vocabulary; annoying) selves and unobtrusively took their temperatures, waving his wand under the table. Despite the half vial they had downed not 30 minutes ago, they both had fevers exceeding 38.5°C and pearls of sweat could be seen under their vivid red hair. Outside he could see that the pearly sheen now covered their now unnaturally pale faces, making their normally healthily pink cheeks look like the shade of pink one would associate with strawberry fondant one would find in a muggle sweet Albus liked, called 'Roses'.

He knew they had suggested the contest to the old man and would be devastated to be pulled out of the competition. He knew everyone thought of him as a very unpleasant person, but he wasn't completely heartless. He could tell that they had been waiting all week for the contest and had realised that they refused to visit the Hospital Wing due to the fact that they were obviously under the impression a mere cold would force them to stay in for four days. Why, a mere Pepper-Up would a solved the problem in a heartbeat! He resolved to frequently wander near them to keep an eye on them and drag them to the Hospital Wing after the judging; regardless of outcome. They had already built two thirds of their sculpture. The Potions Master could recognise his shortest colleague straight away, and thought he could make out the shape of his favourite pewter cauldron (which also happened to be the biggest), but the others were mostly indiscernible at this point.

~*~

Close to lunchtime, the twins had finally finished their spectacular sculpture. Snape had been observing them the entire time, performing warming spells on them at various times, without detection. He had also at one point spelled Pepper-Up into them, noticing with concern that even that wasn't enough to even get the smallest sigh of relief.

At this point he had had enough of the charade and walked up to them. "Misters Weasley..." The twins stood wide-eyed and ashen faced in front of the Potions Master, wondering what they had done to offend their dark-haired professor.

"I believe that a trip to the Hospital Wing is long overdue." With that he turned and stalked to the aforementioned place, obviously expecting the two brothers to follow. After a glance at each other, they stumbled after the Slytherin head, no longer caring about anything.

~*~

"You boys are utter fools. How long have you been ill? Since the end of term? Back then a simple Pepper-Up potion would suffice. Now you have a very nasty chest infection on the cusp of turning into pneumonia!" Snape chided as he, surprisingly gently, helped the boys into bed and began to examine them.

It must be said that Severus Snape knew what he was doing. Before realising he couldn't have a career without brewing his beloved potions, he had embarked on a career in healing, going to medical school before deciding to take his potions mastery after a year. He was familiar with both magical healing and muggle medical methods, performing most of the diagnostic exam with his wand, but he did listen to the boys' chests using a stethoscope. This distressed the boys a little, with having never seen the muggle instrument before, although they tried not to let it show. The professor briefly explained the use of the stethoscope before he gave them two large doses of a string healing potion; Healing Elixir IV (the number denoting the strength) and a mild Soothing Syrup to help them drift off.

Fred and George's last thoughts were of the bat of the dungeon "maybe he isn't such a bad stick after all Gred... not a complete and utter git..."

"...I know what you mean Forge, who'd have thought the Bat of the Dungeon could be so ... caring..."

At last the Gryffindor duo drifted off to sleep, unaware that their sculpture of the five professors had won the contest.

* * *

**A/N: Let me know what you think! I know McGonagall probably wouldn't be bought off that easily but I couldn't think how to bring her back in. :S**


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